Tell Me A Lie
by Aesthetic Butterfly
Summary: "There are four questions of value in life... What is sacred? Of what is the spirit made? What is worth living for, and what is worth dying for? The answer to each is the same. Only love." - Johnny Depp. Gale/OC
1. Prologue

**"Is there anybody there? Can anybody help, to get me out of here? 'Cause you're walking down a road that I can't go." _Champagne's For Celebrating_; Mayday Parade.**

**This is the first time I've written a third-person story in a very long, so if it's completely crappy let me know, and I might change it to first person! Reviews are very appreciated guys :) By the way, which is preferred; first or third person? (Don't worry, the prologue will stay in third person, I'm inquiring about the remaining chapters.)**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games, nor do I own the rights to the Mayday Parade lyrics that will be featured before each chapter. The quotation that I used as my summary was spoken by the wonderful Johnny Depp. (As you may have noticed, this is the second fic where I have used one of his quotes.)**

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**Prologue; The Seventy-third Hunger Games**

_Well this hurts me more than I can stand to say,  
__in just one sitting.  
__You left the room so I could pray.  
__So I'll pace the halls to see if I could find a hole in something,  
__or maybe places to escape._

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The day of the reaping was a cold, grey sort of day. The sort of day that occurred too often in district twelve. It was one of those days where everything looks even more bleak than it really is. The kind of day where having twenty-two entries in the reaping is one of the scariest things that could be imagined. It was the kind of day that Aren Nettly woke up to.

Aren had turned eighteen just a few short months ago. He had been signing up the tessarae since he had turned twelve, which explained why he had so many entries. He had signed up so his little sister, only sixteen, would never have to. He wasn't the only one who did this. He knew of plenty other families where the eldest sibling wouldn't allow the younger to sign up.

Though he was the son of district twelve's butcher, Rooba, their family was hardly any better off than those who lived in the seam. There were nights were they went to bed without food in their bellies. Did people actually think the Capitol would let them eat better? Hardly. Just because his mother had a decent job that kept them from starvation did not mean that they were rich, that they could afford luxuries, that they never had to sign up for the extra grain every year.

This was his last year, his last year to sit through this horrid reaping. It was the last year where he might be picked, might be killed. As long as Shayla's name never came out of that glass ball though, it would all be worth it. Everything would be worth it.

Aren rose out of bed quietly, trying not to wake his sister who was still safely trapped in her dreamland in the bed across the room. He hastily washed in the basin in the adjacent bathroom, pulled on his best clothes, and tip-toed into the small kitchen. His mother was already sitting there, exactly where he had left her the night before. It looked as though she hadn't slept a wink. It was no different from any other reaping day though. Rooba always stayed up before the reaping. It was the only day of the year she indulged in coffee.

She looked up blearily when her son walked into the room. She was so proud that he had inherited her late husbands features. Tall, broad-shouldered, with the dark hair and grey eyes of the Seam. Every time she laid her eyes on him, she saw her loving husband, and it always made her feel comforted, as though Ren were still here.

"Morning," Aren mumbled, settling down in the chair across from his mother. She inclined her head, but didn't speak. He hadn't expected her to. She didn't talk much on the reaping day. She never had. Aren remembered his father taking him aside when he had been twelve and telling him that Rooba's sister had been reaped when they were girls. She had never really gotten over it, and every year it was like she was having to go back and watch her sister being reaped again, and again.

That had been the first year Aren had been in the reaping, with four entries in the reaping ball. Aren remembered that day clearly; his hair had been parted perfectly, his shirt and trousers pressed and spotless. His sister and parents had stood behind the small roped off area designated for potential tributes, the worry so evident on their faces that it had almost reduced Aren to tears. He had been brave though, and it had paid off. He hadn't been reaped.

Three years later, his father died during a mine explosion that had killed several other of District Twelve's husbands, fathers, and sons. He had accepted the medal without a word while in the Justice Building. Rooba had hardened since then. She had thrown herself into her work, but Aren had noticed that she had also been kinder. To those who were just shy of the amount needed to purchase meat, she had accepted what they had. If the Capitol ever found out, she would have been punished a thousand times over. Nothing ever comes cheap.

Aren and Rooba sat at the table as the sun rose and shone through the one lone window in their kitchen. They waited until they heard Shayla moving around in the bedroom. Aren stirred from his reverie and began to pull together brunch. He used the last of the lump of cheese they had bought from a small girl in the seam who had a goat. Her name was Primrose or something of the like. Her sister always visited the shop with meat to trade. Rooba was generous with her offers, as Katniss always shot the animals through the eye, not ruining any of the meat. Aren had to give her props for that, at least.

When Shayla emerged from the bedroom, her long, wavy brown hair was pulled up in a sleek, wet ponytail. She was wearing a lilac dress, one that tied in the back, but otherwise was quite plain. She smiled in a tired sort of way at Aren as she took up her spot at the table. Rooba put her arm around Shayla's shoulders and allowed Shayla to lean into her. Aren laid out the cheese, bread, and dried strips of meat on the table to feast on before the reaping started.

The meal was consumed in silence, when normally Shayla tried to fill up the room with her chatter. She always felt the need to make up for Aren and Rooba's stubborn quietness. She was like her father in that way, she always tried to engage people in conversation. Aren couldn't even imagine what she would be like if her name was ever drawn from the reaping ball. She would have to try and talk the other tribute's to death.

The food felt like stones as it landed in Aren's stomach. He could feel it; there was something about this reaping that was going to end in disaster, for him or his family or maybe just someone he knew. He pushed the rest of his food away and waited for Rooba and Shayla to stop picking at their own portion so they could go to the square.

Rooba pushed away from the table, murmuring that she had to go and get dressed. Shayla pushed her food away as soon as her mother left the room and locked eyes with her brother. Brown eyes and grey eyes clashed, a silent conversation waging between the two.

"Everything's going to be fine, Are."

"I know." Shayla regarded her older brother for a moment longer then pushed away from the table and went in search of her good shoes. Aren sat at the table until the two women in his life were ready. He took one lasting look around their tiny home, memorizing each nook and cranny, before he closed the door behind him.

Aren escorted his sister into the roped-off section where all of the girls were supposed to stand. She fell in with Madge and Katniss, both of whom were a year her junior. When he was reassured that she was staying put and idly talking to the girls, he went and stationed himself within his own roped off section for the boys.

Effie Trinket arrived, her hair electric blue to match her God-awful lipstick. She announced the mayor, who read a stupid speech about the meaning of the Hunger Games, like he did every year. Effie clapped, but she was the only one who did. She introduced Haymitch next, the drunken lout who had somehow managed to win the fiftieth Hunger Games. Then it was on to the reaping with her signature quote, "may the odds be ever in your favour!"

"As usual, ladies first." Effie trilled as she reached a manicured hand into the large glass ball that held within it the destiny of one young girl. She surveyed the crowd as she walked back to her microphone and opened the slip of paper. There was complete silence in the area. "Madeline Linghen!"

A young girl with straight black hair burst into tears, and had to be nearly dragged by the peacekeepers up to the stage. A wail was heard at the back of the crowd, where the people too old to be reaped were standing. Aren let out a breath of relief, hating himself for being glad that it had been Madeline and not his sister whose name had been chosen from the ball.

Effie was speaking again, "and now it's time for the boys!" Aren wondered how she could be so cheerful, when she was sending two children off to their deaths. Her hand skimmed the top papers before she finally selected one, adding to the tension in the air. She made her way back to the microphone and slowly opened the slip. "Aren Nettly!"

Shock. That was the only emotion that could be described as what Aren was feeling. He blinked a few times as the other boys drew away from him. His friends. They were abandoning him for the Hunger Games. They already knew he was dead. Aren took a deep breath, nodded his head shortly, and turned to move toward the stage.

There was a scream from the girl's section as Aren began his stiff walk up to the podium. He didn't dare to glance back at his sister; he was sure he wouldn't be able to make it up onto the stage if he saw her. The one person he loved more than life, whom he had vowed to protect. He wouldn't be able to protect her anymore. He would have to leave it up to fate, and he hoped that fate would be kind to her as it hadn't been to the rest of the family.

Katniss and Madge were holding Shayla back as she fiercely tried to get to her brother, moans of "no, not him, not Aren, anyone but him..." escaping her mouth as the tears ran freely down her face. She couldn't bare to watch as Effie told the tribute's to shake hands. She could only scream as Effie took both by the shoulder and led them into the Justice Building.

The second the doors had closed behind her son, Rooba was beside Shayla, taking over for the two poor girls who had no idea what to do or say. She gently took her daughters hand and pulled her to the Justice Building. "Don't cry, Shay, don't cry." Rooba crooned as she supported her only daughter up the stairs. "Your brother is the toughest boy we know. He'll be fine."

Shayla burst through the doors that the guards had indicated housed her brother and ran to him, sobbing. He enfolded her in his arms, fighting back the tears himself as he made eye-contact with his mother. She didn't shed a tear, but he could see the pain in her eyes as she surveyed him, drinking in his image.

"Why was it you, why did it have to be you, it shouldn't be you, you don't deserve this, this is wrong, I can't live without you." Shayla was sobbing uncontrollably as Aren rubbed her back, trying to sooth her. He knew there was nothing he could say to make her stop. He knew that this would change her just as surely as it changed every family that had been touched by the Games.

"Everything's going to be okay, Shay, you're going to be okay." He whispered into her hair, knowing nothing would be okay. He knew they were just empty words, but _she_ didn't have to know it.

"Promise me, Are. Promise me you won't leave me." Aren closed his eyes and pressed his face into his sister's shoulder.

"I promise, I will never leave you. No matter what happens, Shay, I'm always going to be with you."

The peacekeepers barged in, and Shayla disentangled herself from her brother long enough for him to hug Rooba. Then the doors were closing behind the two people that had given the world meaning. Aren sat down shakily on the loveseat and finally allowed the tears to come. There would be no other visitors. His friends would not want to see him like this. He didn't want to see them anyway. He didn't think he would be able to handle it. He needed a clean break. He needed them to remember him as the boy before the Games, not this blubbering baby.

The next three weeks were like a personal hell for Shayla and Rooba. They were forced into watching Aren being dressed up in a ridiculous coal-miner costume as he was paraded around for all to see. They watched as he was interviewed, though he stoically wouldn't participate in the banter Ceasar Flickerman tried to incite out of him. They watched as he entered the arena, as he rushed away from the cornucopia without a single thing to help him survive.

Mother and daughter watched as Aren Nettly was killed on the second day of the Games by a Career who had no doubt been trained for years. They watched as this career, who had destroyed their lives, was crowned victor. They watched as he gloated over his killings. They watched as the Capitol stood by and let their world come crashing down.

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**What did you all think? :) Just a warning: this probably won't be continued if I don't think anyone is interested, so all of your reviews count! Please drop me a review, constructive criticism is definitely welcomed! **


	2. The Volunteer

**Thanks for the reviews guys! Here's the first chapter, as promised! :)**

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**Chapter One: The Volunteer**

_Oh, and everybody knows this is the part  
of breaking down in anybody's arms.  
I'm reaching down and hoping this one's ours  
God, please let this stay._

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Shayla Nettly had never been the same after her brother's death. She was not the cheerful young girl she had been. The Games had aged her as only death could. She no longer went about carefree, for now she held the weight of the world on her shoulders. Her mother had been strong throughout the entirety of the Games. Shayla knew now though, she was the one who had to be strong. Her mother couldn't do everything alone. Shayla left school to help her mother out in the shop, as her brother had. She was the one who normally dealt with customers now; her mother hadn't enjoyed the condolences and sad looks that people had sent her.

Shayla had made it perfectly clear; from the first day she began to help out with the customers, that anyone who so much as mentioned her brother would regret it. The people of District Twelve respected that, if only because they all respected her mother. She was sure that everyone preferred to haggle with Rooba, but Shayla couldn't have cared less. She was fair; she never asked too much, she never paid too little. Her mother had taught her that, and her father had reinforced it. She would never, ever, treat anyone poorly. The only person, Shayla swore to herself, that she would ever revoke that promise for was the boy who had killed her brother.

He had been the glue that had kept their little family together. Without him, Shayla and her mother had grown distant in their mourning. It was almost as if they thought it would help. Shayla was reminded of Aren every time her mother spoke. It was almost as if he was speaking through their mother, to tell her that he was still there. It was too painful, Shayla had told Rooba, to speak to her. It was too painful to be inside their house. Too painful, too painful, too painful. Rooba had told her that it would get better. Shayla knew she was lying. Rooba still mourned her sister, still clammed up at the thought of her. Shayla knew that this was how she would be, for the rest of her life.

The funeral had been a little thing, but everyone from District Twelve had attended. It was the same as every year. Aren had been sent back in a plain pine coffin, alongside Madeline Linghen, who had died just a few days later. He had been buried in the same cemetery as their father, as the tributes before him, as Madeline was. The family was left to mourn on their own for a little while, but it couldn't last. Rooba was needed, and now so was Shayla.

It was in the front of the butcher shop that Shayla was standing now, rubbing down the wooden counter after the last bloody carcass had passed over it. She sensed rather than heard as her mother appeared behind her, entering from the backroom where Rooba skinned and gutted the carcasses traded to her from the other citizens of the district, or sent to her from the Capitol. Shayla turned her head and glanced at her mother as she cleaned her hands.

"The Reaping is tomorrow," Rooba observed, not looking up from the soiled cloth she was using to clean her equally dirty hands. Shayla nodded and turned back to the counter, not wanting to have this conversation, not wanting to have to think about going back to the Reaping when it had been scarce a year since her brother had been chosen. _Sent to his death, more like,_ she thought bitterly as she scrubbed at a spot of gore that stubbornly did not want to be lifted.

"You'll have to wear your best. They'll know you're Aren's sister. Every camera will be trained on you, waiting to see if the fates will be kind or not." Rooba continued on, speaking as though it were the weather she was talking about, and not imminent death.

"Yes, mother."

"I think you should wear the green dress," Rooba said brusquely, "it was Aren's favorite." Shayla halted in her scrubbing and abandoned the rag on the counter. She turned to her mother viciously; about to snarl a reply about how she would never touch that dress again, when there was a soft knocking on the backdoor. Shayla ground her teeth, but restrained herself from saying anything to her mother. Instead, she simply stalked into the backroom and made her way to the small door that only Katniss and Gale used.

Shayla yanked open the door, glaring at the two faces that appeared before her. "What?" She snarled, crossing her arms and observing the fowl that they held in their hands. They were fairly well-sized birds, round and fat. Shayla knew she'd need to trade something good, or otherwise open the family's very small purse.

"Here," Katniss held them up to her for examination. She had hit them all through the eye, as she usually did, and one even looked as though it had its leg broken. _One of Gale's traps,_ Shayla observed as she gave them a cursory glance. She preferred to speak with Gale while trading, though it wasn't often that it happened. Katniss reminded her of the day Aren had been reaped, and both of them refused to speak of it. The two had grown distant, which seemed to be a trend in Shayla's life. She only spoke to one person on a regular basis, had only one person who she could call a friend.

"They're decent," Shayla agreed, though Katniss hadn't said anything. "I'll give you a steak for each of them." Katniss glared.

"Are you kidding me, Shayla?"

Shayla refused to meet her gaze; she instead concentrated on the birds and not the girl who had held her back from running to her brother so many months ago. "Five steaks for the lot, I guess."

"No deal, I won't take any less than six." Gale had remained quiet, observing the bantering. Shayla knew he would step in when he saw fit. He always let Katniss have a go, knowing that if she couldn't get Shayla to soften up, there wasn't a chance in hell that Shayla would. Shayla had only spoken to Gale on occasion, even though he had been in her brother's year in school and had spoken to Aren every once in a while.

The only time they had ever had a private conversation had been directly after her brother's death had aired. Shayla tried every single day to forget it, both the conversation and her brother's death. She had never seen Gale in the same light again, and they had never spoken of their run-in either. Not that she had wanted to.

"That's a little much for these," Shayla snapped, her mood souring by the minute. "Take it or leave it Katniss, I'm not in the mood right now."

"You think any of us are in the mood?" Gale growled back, coming to Katniss's defense as always. It didn't take much to piss him off, especially this close to Reaping day. "We know the Reaping is tomorrow, Shayla, don't think we've forgotten. I've got my name in there more times than you could imagine. Don't talk to me about being in a bad mood."

"What," Shayla snarled back, "you think I've only got my name in there a few times like the rest of those kids up there do?" She pointed up the hill to where the mayor's house was, where the wealthier members of district twelve lived. "You think Aren only had his name in there a few times? I might not have my name in there as often as you, Gale, but I have it in more than some, so before you open your big mouth, think about that next time." She had only had to sign up for the tessarae once; it had been her first time this year. Shayla had her name in the reaping six times now. She reached for the door. "You can forget about those stupid birds getting you anything now." Shayla slammed the door with as much force as she could muster and stormed off. She wound her way between the hanging carcasses and located the staircase that led up into the upper floor of the shop.

After Aren's funeral Rooba and Shayla had packed up their things and abandoned the house. They moved into the empty rooms above the butcher shop, simultaneously leaving behind memories of Aren and becoming closer to their shop. Shayla ran into her room and collapsed on the bed, burying her head into her pillow.

A few minutes later, the murmuring of voices outside had her raising her head and looking out the little window. She could see the back of the shop from here, where Katniss and Gale were still standing. She could hear them talking to someone behind the door. Rooba must be giving them something for the birds, Shayla thought in disgust. It was just like her mother, offering up pity to those who were about to be reaped. Shayla sighed and slid back down onto her bed, ignoring the rumbling in her stomach. She stayed in that position, curled up and clutching her pillow, as her mother came up from the shop that evening. She stayed there all night, drifting in and out of a fitful sleep, her thoughts consumed with those of her brother.

When morning's light finally reached her through the window, Shayla stretched and got up. She went to the wash basin the corner of her room and bathed, taking extra care with her hair and her face. She washed the blood and gore from under her nails, lavishing in the clean feeling. She never had time to take this much care in her hygiene. When she felt as though she had been rubbed raw, she stepped from the water and dried herself off.

Shayla stood in front of the tiny wooden dresser that had come with her from the old house and contemplated what dress to wear. She pulled out the deep green one Rooba had mentioned and ran the material through her fingers. It had been a birthday gift from her father, many years ago. It had been too big for her until just recently. She slipped it on over her head, relishing in the feel of the soft fabric over her skin. Shayla stood in front of the small mirror that had been one of her mother's wedding gifts, which she had given Shayla on her thirteenth birthday, and twirled in the dress.

Aren would have grinned at her and told her she was beautiful, but Shayla didn't feel beautiful. She didn't see how the dress made the green flecks in her eyes stand out, she didn't see how well it fit to her slight form, she didn't see any of the beauty that her father and brother had seen. She only saw a lonely, silly girl, twirling in a dress on the day that she could be marked to die, the day that her brother had been chosen. Shayla blinked away the tears that stung her eyes and drew in a deep breath. _It will be okay._

Shayla pulled her hair up into a bun and left her bedroom. She wandered out into the small kitchen where Rooba was sitting, as she did every night before the Reaping. She was nursing a cup of coffee, and in front of her sat a plate piled with dried meat, a loaf of bread, and one shining, red apple. Shayla furrowed her brow and hurried over to the table, to make sure she wasn't seeing things.

"An apple?"

Rooba looked up at her and smiled, "just for you, Shay." Shayla blinked at her mother, not quite understanding why she would have spent this much money on her. "I wanted to apologize for how I've been acting this year..." She drew in a breath, "I would hate myself if you were reaped and we never made up."

That stopped Shayla in her tracks. She locked eyes with her mother, noting the tear tracks that were fresh on her face. "Mom," she whispered as she rounded the table to enfold her in a hug. "I'm so sorry," she continued as she buried her face into her shoulder, just as she had done last year. "I'm so, so sorry."

They stayed in that position for a few minutes, saying nothing, just hugging each other. The Reaping was known to bring people together as nothing else did. It was an emotional time, for everyone. It wasn't until Rooba pulled away and held her daughter at arm's length that the silence was broken. "You look stunning," she said, a smile gracing her hard features. "I love that dress. We all did."

Shayla nodded, not trusting herself to speak. She pulled out of her mother's embrace and took up her spot on the opposite site of the table. She plucked the apple from the dish and, using the knife left on the table, she cut it in half and offered one side to her mother. Rooba took the slice and bit into it with relish. Shayla lifted the delicate flesh to her nose and inhaled, closing her eyes and enjoying the smell. She bit into the crunchy apple and delighted at the taste. She couldn't remember the last time she'd had an apple, or anything that tasted as sweet.

Once they had polished off the apple and eaten their fill of dried beef and bread, Rooba went off to her own bedroom to get dressed for the Reaping. Shayla walked to the stairwell that led down into the butcher shop and pondered which shoes to wear. Every pair of shoes owned by both her and Rooba was arranged in a line beside the doorway. There were four pairs, one each for every-day wear and one each for the Reaping. Shayla's every-day shoes were moccasins made from comfortable, but worn, light leather. Her Reaping shoes were black velvet flats that had been a gift for her fourteenth birthday, when her previous Reaping shoes had gotten too small. Shayla knew that her every-day shoes wouldn't match her dress, nor were they nice enough to wear to the Reaping, so she regretfully slipped her feet into her flats.

Rooba appeared, wearing a dressy black shirt and a black skirt. They were her mourning clothes, not her Reaping clothes. Shayla didn't comment though, she knew that her mother was doing this as her own small form of protest. She waited for Rooba to put on her own shoes, and then they headed down to the lower level together, Rooba preceding her daughter. Shayla was silently counting how many times her name had been entered into the Reaping bowl when they stepped out into the sunshine of District Twelve.

"Shay," a voice called out from her left. Shayla turned and glimpsed Peeta Mellark, the only friend she could count on, walking over. His blond hair had been slicked back and he was wearing his finest pants and shirt. Shayla and Rooba paused and waited as Peeta caught up, abandoning his own family. Shayla smiled at him, one of the only people she would grace with a smile, and they continued down to the square together.

Peeta, though a year younger, had always been a friend of Shayla's. When they were little, Shayla and Peeta would play together outside of his parent's bakery. When her brother died, Peeta had been the only one that she would open up to about her pain. He had listened, really listened, and offered advice. He had consoled her, he had made her smile. Peeta had a gift in that way, he always knew how to cheer people up. He always knew exactly what to say.

Though Peeta had left school to help his parents out in the bakery long before Shayla had left, they had kept in contact. It wasn't easy, of course, but it had worked. When Shayla had left school to help her mother out, she had been afraid that they would never have time for each other again. She needn't have worried though, for Peeta's parents sent him to the shop to trade and buy meat.

"How are you holding up?" He asked as they fell into step behind Rooba. "It's your first reaping since..." He fell silent, but only for a moment. "It'll be fine." He nodded, not waiting for Shayla's answer. "What do you think Effie's going to look like this year, Shay?" He grinned at her. "I bet she's yellow, and I bet Haymitch will throw up all over her like he did a few years ago, remember?"

Peeta wouldn't ever have to worry about the Reaping like everyone else would. His father had one of the best jobs in the District, better than her mother's for sure. Not everyone could afford luxuries like meat; most of them would brave the Hob or do without before coming to her mother's shop. It was the bakery that people went to when they could spare the money, not the butcher shop.

Shayla smiled at Peeta, "I bet she'll be purple, it seemed to be a favorite of hers." Shayla didn't bother mentioning how she was doing. He would be able to tell. "Who do you think will be the unlucky ones this year?"

Peeta's smile slid from his face. "I don't even want to think about it." Peeta's older brother would also be eligible for Reaping, though this was his last year. It was also Katniss's sister's first year for the Reaping. Shayla only knew this because Primrose was well-loved throughout the District. Everyone would be praying she didn't get called up; everyone who wasn't praying for themselves or their own children, that is.

When they arrived at the square, Peeta and Shayla separated and drifted off toward their own segregated sections. The girls were always in front, nearest to the stage, the boys behind. Shayla stood by herself, watching as Prim hovered by a group of nervous girls all her own age. Katniss stood just a few feet away from Shayla, watching her younger sister. Shayla surveyed the group of young people, wondering which of them would be next. She spied Peeta and gave him a small, encouraging smile. She also spotted Gale, who was watching Katniss. She had always suspected something was going on between them. They spent a lot of time alone together. Shayla turned her head and instead surveyed the stage, waiting.

A few minutes later, when the noise had died down and the square was shrouded in silence, Effie Trinket waltzed out of the Justice Building. Her hair was a garish pink that matched her make-up, and she was smiling that dazzling, yet fake, smile of hers. She waved at the cameras and took a seat beside the mayor and his wife. The mayor took his cue and stood up, delivering his yearly speech to the District. _Yada, yada, yada..._ Shayla thought as she looked up at the sky, blocking out the words that the mayor was saying. _It's the same every year; you'd think they'd be done with it._

Once the speech had concluded, Effie took over. She welcomed everyone to the seventy-fourth Hunger Games, and watched as Haymitch tottered onto the stage and then fell off. Shayla smirked at this, knowing that everyone from the Capitol would be laughing at his antics. He was an embarrassment, but he was the best the District had. Then it was on with the ceremony, and Effie was calling out "may the odds be ever in your favor!"

Shayla clenched her fists as Effie dipped her hand into the dish that held all of the girl's slips, some with her name on them, many with Katniss's, and one with Primrose's. Effie plucked one off the top of the pile and strutted back to the microphone. She unfolded the piece of paper with deliberate slowness, and read off a name that nobody was expecting. "Primrose Everdeen,"

Shayla gaped, her arms swinging uselessly at her sides. This young girl had a goat, a goat named Lady. She had once helped her mother heal Rooba when she had sliced her hand open while gutting the carcass of a deer. She had been one of the first people to approach her after her brother died. She had offered her a small block of cheese, all that she could spare. _Why is it always the good ones who die young? _Shayla thought sadly as Prim began to walk up to the podium, just as Aren had done a year before. Shayla started trembling. _This isn't right,_ she thought, her hands curling into fists, _the Capitol needs to be punished for this._

She wasn't sure what she was going to do, but all of a sudden she was moving, moving toward Prim. She was too late though. Katniss was already out in the lane cleared for the Tributes. "Prim?" She called, her voice filled with pain. "Prim, no!" She screeched. The peacekeepers were advancing on her, but then she hollered "I volunteer! I volunteer as tribute."

The whole area stilled. There had never been a volunteer, not in the history of District Twelve. Shayla froze, watching the events unfold. Prim was hollering, Katniss was being escorted to the podium, Effie was beckoning, a huge smile on her face. Shayla looked to Peeta, his face horrorstruck. She knew his feelings for Katniss. She knew that he was wishing he could take her place. She knew he would do something stupid if the scene wasn't contained. Then, all of a sudden, Gale was shouldering past her and scooping up a still-screaming Prim. His face was grim, but he couldn't do anything to help. He had accepted that already. Someone would have to stay behind and look after their families.

"What's your name, dear?" Effie was asking as Katniss finally arrived at the microphone. Shayla tore her gaze from Prim and watched as Katniss related her name to the District and cameras. "I bet that was your little sister, wasn't it?" Effie appeared delighted at the prospect.

"Yes," was Katniss's weak response. She was looking out on the crowd as if she didn't quite know how she had gotten up there. Shayla ground her teeth, telling herself to just stay silent. There was nothing she could do now, anyway.

"Well, let's have a round of applause for District Twelve's first volunteer!" Effie began clapping, but there was dead silence throughout the District. Nobody was going to clap for her. They respected her more than that. Instead, Shayla watched as everyone lifted two fingers to their lips and raised them to Katniss. Shayla hurried to mirror what everyone else was doing, a soft smile gracing her face as she raised her own two fingers in tribute to Katniss. _She stands a chance,_ Shayla thought, _she knows how to hunt._

Effie managed to regain control by announcing that it was time for the boys. Shay had nearly forgotten. She desperately looked to Peeta; trying to convey her desperation in one look; _don't do anything stupid._ Shay waited as Effie dug to the bottom of the bowl and pulled a slip forth. She opened it much quicker than she had with the girl's slip and barked out the name, "Peeta Mellark."

Shayla let out a quiet exclamation, "no!" She looked to Peeta, who had the appearance of a person whose nightmares had all come true. _They have,_ Shayla thought as he made his way through the crowd to the podium. _Everything he never wanted to happen has happened._

Effie was speaking again, but Shayla couldn't hear her over the ringing in her ears. She couldn't get over the injustices of it. First Aren, then Prim and Katniss, and now her only friend, Peeta. It was almost as bad as when her brother had been reaped_. I vow I will have my vengeance_, Shayla promised as she glared up at Effie, who was now ushering the two tributes into the Justice Building. _The Capitol won't get away with this!_

* * *

**What did you think? Don't worry, there's plenty of Gale in the next chapter ;) Please drop me a review! **


	3. The Offer

**I am so very sorry you guys! I know, I haven't updated in like a month. I'm having the worst writer's block -for this and for my Jacob story- but I am going to try my hardest to keep writing! Your reviews are my inspiration :) I hope you enjoy, since I rushed the ending a little in order to post tonight. **

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**Chapter Two: The Offer**

_And I fell into pieces,  
and she fell into me.  
Saying, play me a song  
it's been too long since I've heard,  
you sing._

Shayla elbowed her way through the crowds, intent on getting to the Justice Building to speak to Peeta for one last time. She had no fantasies of Peeta coming home, not with the Careers, not with Katniss being out there too. Shayla knew he would give up his life for Katniss if he had the opportunity. She entered the building and headed for the chamber where her brother had been kept, where all of the boys go. She was met by two peacekeepers, guns hanging from their belts. They blocked her from reaching the door, hands resting on their Capitol-manufactured weapons.

"Family first," the peacekeeper to the right informed her. Shayla shook her head, disgusted, but obeyed and turned to sit on one of the lounges that littered the hall. She watched as Katniss's family entered to visit her for one last time. Next, Peeta's family entered, his father noticed and nodded to her in a distracted sort of way, and then they were gone too. Lastly, Gale entered, he looked even angrier than the time Rooba had offered him only a few silvers for a whole buck. It had been during the winter, so pickings were slim, and money was almost non-existent.

After rushing toward Katniss's room, Gale was told that Katniss's family was inside and that he could see her afterwards. Gale bit back a retort and turned away from them, a curse on his lips. It was then that he noticed Shayla, and came to sit beside her. Shayla watched as he approached, thinking of the last time it had happened.

"I guess I know how you feel now," Gale said as he sat down on the lounge beside her. He ran a hand through his dark hair, sighing. "We're both the wrong gender, huh?" Shayla lifted her gaze from the door that sheltered Peeta from her and looked into Gale's eyes.

"Yes, for the second year in a row." She answered curtly. Gale nodded slowly and turned to stare at the door behind which Katniss was saying her goodbyes.

"Would you take Peeta's spot, if you could?" He asked quietly, still watching the door for any sign of it opening.

Shayla closed her eyes briefly, not knowing the answer to the question. "I don't know. I doubt he would let me. Would you take Katniss's place?"

"In a heartbeat," he replied without hesitation. Shayla knew he hadn't even considered the question. He hadn't considered his own family. She knew that, given the time to really think about it, he wouldn't have traded spots with her. Katniss was either the bravest, or the stupidest, person alive.

Gale pulled his gaze from the door to look at Shayla again. "You remember what I said last year, about Aren?" Shayla clenched her teeth and jerked her head away from Gale, not wanting to look at him. She remembered; there was barely a day that went by where she didn't ponder his words.

* * *

_Shayla and Rooba sat on the edge of their seats as they watched Aren and the other twenty-three tributes rise out of the ground on silver plates. The arena had the appearance of a desert, a ruined city sat off in the distance and a small stand of palm trees could be seen in the opposite direction. The thirty seconds of countdown were torture. Aren was gazing back and forth between the cornucopia and the stand of trees._

"_Don't do it, Are," Rooba whispered as she watched Aren's face turn to the cornucopia and rest there, a look of determination taking over. "Get out of there."_

_Shayla gripped the edge of the seat, a sickening feeling gripping her insides. The horn sounded, and the tributes were off like a gunshot. Aren leapt from his plate, dodging in and around the other tributes; but he was too slow. The Careers had already reached the cornucopia. He skidded to a stop and changed his mind, bolting in the direction of the stand of palm trees._

_Shayla let out a small breath. She knew by now that most tributes died during the fighting at the cornucopia. The cameras didn't stick with him; they were concentrating on the bloodbath at the horn. Shayla averted her eyes at the worst parts. She hated watching the killing, though the Careers seemed to revel in it._

_There was a small feeling of victory for the District when Madeline managed to grab a tarp and a bag of bread from the outskirts of the cornucopia as she headed for the ruined city. Though it didn't make Shayla and Rooba feel any better; Aren was out in the middle of the desert with no food, water, or shelter._

_He wasn't shown on camera for a long hour; the bloodbath was much too interesting. It kept Shayla and Rooba in a state of anxiety. They reassured each other by saying things like "they would have shown him if he had died." It wasn't the most cheerful thing, but it was truthful._

_It was nightfall by the time the killing at the cornucopia was over with. The Capitol then showed flashes of the tributes still alive. Madeline had made it to the ruined city, her hair was plastered to her forehead and she was leaning against partially fallen-in husk of a house. She was clutching her bread and tarp with all of her strength, but it wasn't hard to tell that she was in dire need of water. Aren, on the other hand, had found that the small forest was bountiful in coconuts. He was sitting at the bottom of one of the great trees, bashing a coconut with a sharp rock he had scooped up._

"_Thank God," Rooba whispered, pressing her fist to her mouth. Shayla felt as though a weight had been lifted off her shoulders and she permitted herself to smile._

_Their relief was short-lived. It wasn't half an hour later that the canon shots sounded, indicating the showing of the dead tributes faces in the sky, that Aren was killed as he watched the projections. The female Career from District Two, Laurel, had grabbed him from behind and slashed his throat._

_Rooba screamed, launching at the TV as if she could shield her son from death. She shook the screen, cursing, screaming to have her son back, and damning the Capitol. Shayla watched as her mother seemed to cave in on herself in her grief. She shrank into a ball and wailed a long, continuous, heart-wrenching lament._

_Shayla slowly stood up, not quite sure she believed her brother to be dead, her hands and legs shaking. She turned away from her mother, not bothering to try and comfort her. She was too far gone by now. Instead, Shayla turned and walked calmly out of the house. She wasn't sure where it was that she was going. She just felt the need to be away._

_The cool night air caressed her skin as she walked through the village, keeping her head low. A few people who were close to her mother were running back in the direction of the house, but Shayla just turned her head away from them. They didn't even notice her, they were too panicked, too intent on reaching Rooba._

_Shayla had reached the meadow on the outskirts of the village when it finally hit her. She sank to her knees in the waist-high grass and sobbed. She buried her face in her hands, shaking her head from side to side. "No!" She screamed, drawing her hands down her face. She punched the ground, shrieking, battering a hole in the dirt._

"_Why?" She whispered into the night, when she had finally lost feeling in her knuckles. "Why Aren?"_

"_The Capitol does it to keep us in line, that's what they say in school, isn't it?" The voice startled Shayla and she whirled around, bringing a hand up to wipe the tears from her face. Gale Hawthorne stood before her, a burlap sack slung over his shoulder. He lowered the bag to the ground, concern in his eyes. "They got him, didn't they?"_

"_Got him?" Shayla repeated, furrowing her brow. "What the hell do you mean; got him? Some Career bitch killed him. She snuck up on him. She didn't even give him the chance to defend himself!" Shayla had begun screaming. "It isn't fair! He didn't deserve this! He was the best of us, he was. It should have been me. It should never have been him." The tears were running freely down her face again._

"_It isn't right." Gale agreed. He knelt down in front of Shayla, uncertain of exactly what to do or say. "The Capitol needs to pay for what they've done to us here. Those of us who aren't starving are killed in the Games, or in the mines, or by peacekeepers..." Gale took a deep breath. The memory of their fathers still weighed heavily on his shoulders. "We could do it, you know. If the whole village rebelled, we could overtake the peacekeepers. We could probably live in the woods. Katniss and I can hunt, we could teach the others." Gale flicked his gaze to the ground, as if embarrassed by admitted his thoughts. "We could destroy the Capitol, if we tried."_

_Shayla laughed, "You could certainly try, but you'd die before you made it out of Twelve." Shayla shook her head, amazed at Gale's words. "We couldn't do it without help from the other Districts." Shayla picked at the grass at her feet. "I can't believe I'm talking to you about a rebellion." She let out a humorless laugh. "This is completely crazy. There will never be another rebellion, and that's because of the Games. That's why they exist. The Capitol could crush us in an instant."_

"_You really don't think we could do it?"_

_Shayla looked up into Gale's grey eyes, so much like her brothers, and her breath caught for a minute. _Could we actually do it?_ She thought, and for an instant, seeing the conviction in those eyes, she believed it. "We could," she whispered. "But it would take a hell of a lot more than my brother's death to convince anyone."_

* * *

"What about it, Gale?" Shayla hissed, eyeing the peacekeepers who were watching them silently. "We shouldn't talk about this here, you know." As soon as the words left her mouth, the peacekeepers turned and opened the doors to both chambers, ushering the two families out. Gale jumped up, not bothering to look back at Shayla as he crossed the hall to see Katniss. Shayla stood up slower, wary of seeing her best friend for the last time. _Why would Gale bring that up again after so long?_

She crossed to Peeta's chamber with her heart falling somewhere around her ankle's. The peacekeepers allowed her to pass them and push open the door this time, and she did so with a feeling of dread. Peeta was hunched up on the couch, shaking. She rushed over to him and threw her arms around him, all thoughts of Gale fleeing her mind. It was exactly like Aren's final day.

"I don't want you to go," Shayla whispered into Peeta's shoulder as he returned her embrace. "I don't know what I'm going to do without you." Peeta had been everything to Shayla since Aren had gone to the Games; a brother, a friend, a confidante.

"You'll be okay, Shay." He said in a shaky voice. "Take care of yourself, don't worry about me." He pulled out of her embrace and Shayla could feel the tears threatening to spill. Peeta already had tear tracks running down his cheeks. He took a deep breath and whispered, "I'm going to do whatever I can to make sure Katniss comes back."

"I know you are." Shayla replied quietly, rubbing a palm over her eyes. "But I want you to come back, not her."

"Do you realize what you just said?" He asked, furrowing his brow. "This is what the Capitol has done to us, don't you see? They've turned us against people who used to be our friends, people we've grown up with." He shook his head, looking away from Shayla. "I don't want that, Shay. If Katniss comes back..." He swallowed noisily, visibly shaking. "If she comes back... tell her... tell her what I did, okay?" The doors were being opened; Shayla grabbed Peeta by the shoulders and embraced him tightly for one last time. "Be nice to her, don't blame her for..."

"I know,"

"I love you, Shay."

"I love you too, Peeta." Shayla whispered as the peacekeepers grabbed her by the shoulders and dragged her out of the room. She could do nothing but watch as they closed the doors on Peeta, blocking the last view she thought she would ever have of him.

Shayla was escorted out of the building by the peacekeepers where they deposited her, alongside Gale, on the steps and closed the doors with a resounding bang. She didn't move for a long moment, she just stared at the recently washed white-marble stairs. Every other day of the year they were coated in coal dust. It was different on Reaping day. Everything was different. _The Capitol doesn't want to see what it's really like out here, _she thought. _They just want their Games; they don't want the citizens to see how bad it is for us. Heaven forbid they feel guilt. _

"We need to do something about this." Gale whispered. Shayla raised her gaze from the stairs to peer into his grey eyes. "We can't keep letting this happen."

"You think we're _letting_ this happen?" Shayla hissed, moving closer to Gale so that their conversation could be slightly more private. "I don't know about you, Gale, but nobody here wants this to happen. But no matter how much we _want _it to happen or not, it's going to keep happening. There's no way to stop the Capitol." Shayla turned away from him, and quickly made her way down the stairs. She refused to have this conversation again, especially in the middle of the village.

Shayla found her mother waiting for her on the outskirts of the square. Rooba gently touched Shayla's arm and gave her a sad look. She didn't need to ask "are you okay?" and Shayla didn't need to answer. They both knew she wasn't, and that she never would be. Instead, Rooba took her daughter by the arm and led the way back to their shop, to their home.

Shayla didn't bother eating lunch or supper. Instead, she did what she always did when she couldn't bear to hold back any longer. She crawled into her bed and burrowed deep under the blankets, letting the waves of sorrow wash over her. She cried until she couldn't cry any longer, and slowly sank into a deep sleep.

The next day was a painful experience, as she hadn't stuck around long enough to watch the train take Katniss and Peeta away. She had to face the reproachful looks that the citizens of Twelve sent her way when they glanced into her shop. It was tantamount to treachery to not see the tributes off. Shayla knew Peeta would understand, and that was all that mattered to her.

She spent the next night the same way as the previous, curled in the fetal position, waiting for sleep to take her away from the nightmares of reality. All she could see when she closed her eyes were images of Aren's death, of Peeta's inevitable demise, and the hateful looks of the citizens. She couldn't bear to watch another Hunger Games, not one where someone else close to her would die.

The morning came slowly, dawn creeping into the window of Shayla's room before she had even managed sleep. She wearily got out of bed anyway and put on her clothes. She was not looking forward to the long day she envisioned ahead of her.

Rooba was waiting for her in the kitchen, slowly chewing on a strip of beef. She had left out a few slices for Shayla, who sat down across from her mother and snatched a piece up. She chewed the tough meat without tasting it, gulping down a glass of water with it. Rooba finished before Shayla, and told her that she would be in the back room if she was looking for her. Shayla nodded and grabbed another piece of beef.

By the time Shayla was downstairs and opening the shop, the sun had risen fully. _Tomorrow marks the beginning of the interviews. _Shayla thought as she gazed out the front window of the shop. _I can't get out of that. I'm going to have to watch, just like everyone else. _

The day passed slowly, without much incident. Shayla lounged behind the counter in the shop, wishing desperately for some miracle that would spare her from watching the required programming in the morning. She cleaned the counter, the windows, the floors, anything to keep her from thinking about Peeta and the Games. Yet it wasn't nearly a good enough distraction.

It was sunset when the knocking came at the back door. Shayla jumped up out of her chair, surprised that Gale was still out hunting when Katniss was being held hostage in the Capitol. She rushed through the back room and yanked open the door, wondering what the Game would look like without Katniss's expertise. To her surprise, the game bag was filled just as it always was. Gale set it down on the doorstep and pulled out what looked like a whole warren of rabbits.

Shayla poked and prodded at the rabbits, taking in their plump size and relative health. She nodded, "they're decent for the time of year." Gale nodded his agreement, "I'll give you five silvers for the lot, and throw in an apple." Shayla told him, tossing in the apple at the last minute. _He needs just as much comfort as I do, and something special like that could be helpful._

Gale allowed a small smile to grace his features, "you're not trying to make up for running off on reaping day, are you?" Shayla raised an eyebrow at him.

"Certainly not, there's nothing to make up for." Shayla reached into the back pocket of her pants and pulled out a tiny wallet that her mother had given her for meat-procuring purposes only. She counted out the five silvers and handed them over. "The apple's upstairs, you can come in for a minute while I go get it if you want." She offered as she scooped the rabbits into her arms.

Without waiting for a response, Shayla hustled over to the table where Rooba was working on a stack of venison. She set the rabbits on the table, told her mother who they were from, and turned to the stairs. Shayla hurried up them and grabbed the apple that she had spied earlier in the day. Her mother must have bought it yesterday when Shayla hadn't been paying attention. _She won't be happy about this._

Shayla turned and thudded down the stairs, finding Gale waiting patiently at the bottom. She handed him the green-skinned fruit, which he took with a look of wonder on his face. Shayla grinned at him and escorted him back to the door. "I have a question," Gale ventured as he picked up the burlap sack. Shayla nodded. "Why did you give this to me?"

Shayla stood there for a second, not comprehending, _as payment?_ She knew he hadn't meant it like that though. She, nor Rooba, had ever given anything as expensive as an apple to a customer or trader before. It just wasn't a normal occurrence. "I just felt that you could use a little bit of happiness." Strange, how a small fruit like the apple could bring someone joy.

Gale smiled a little bit at the thought before throwing the bag over his shoulder. "Thank you, Shayla." She gave him a small smile in return, as he was about to walk away.

"Hey, wait," she called after him. He turned back around, raised his eyebrows, and waited for her response. "How are you going to catch enough game to feed your own family and Katniss's?" He furrowed his brow.

"I'm not sure yet."

"Teach me how to hunt. I can help." Shayla blurted out without really thinking the whole thing through. Sure, her family could use the extra food, and it would be a handy skill to learn, but would he actually teach her? Or would he think she was just being silly?

Gale pondered her for a moment, "if you can meet me in the meadow at sunrise tomorrow, we can talk." He offered her another smile before he turned and set off in the direction of his house, the apple clutched tightly in his hand.

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**Please review guys! I hope you enjoyed! And, again, sorry for the long wait!**


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